


After The Troubles

by Lenore



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Angst, First Time, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/pseuds/Lenore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Troubles are over, and Nathan's got a headache and a bad case of quiet desperation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After The Troubles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [Holiday Prompt-a-Palooza](http://scribblinlenore.livejournal.com/588754.html). This was inspired by two prompts: [](http://mareen.livejournal.com/profile)[**mareen**](http://mareen.livejournal.com/) who asked for Duke/Nathan, touch and [](http://rheasilvia.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://rheasilvia.livejournal.com/)**rheasilvia** who asked for Duke/Nathan, hurt/comfort.

Being able to feel things wasn't all it was cracked up to be. That had been Nathan's opinion on the subject since the Troubles ended two weeks and three days ago. He rubbed at his temples, although this did nothing to get rid of his headache. Aspirin, bourbon and the meditation DVD Vince insisted he try had all been just as useless. He was beginning to think he was going to have to wait twenty-seven years until the Troubles rolled around again to get any relief.

Stan knocked and waited for Nathan to wave him in. "Those manpower reports you wanted."

Nathan nodded, and when Stan stalled there at the corner of his desk, he looked up questioningly.

"Um, I was wondering." He shifted his weight uneasily. "If you'd thought any more about what we were talking about the other day?"

Nathan's shoulders went stiff. "I said I'd get back to you on it."

"You wouldn't have to—I'll take care of clearing it all away," Stan offered, with a mix of apology and sympathy.

"I'll get back to you."

Stan heard the _leave now_ in Nathan's voice and mumbled something about getting back to work and went. Nathan glanced out at Audrey's desk. It was just the way she'd left it: her Cuckoo For Cocoa Puffs mug with a crust of coffee in the bottom, the bag of lemon-honey Ricola she always kept around, a stray hair thingamajig that she'd carelessly tossed down and forgotten. Probably the right thing to do was let Stan box it all up and put it on some dusty shelf in the storeroom so it wasn't a constant reminder that she wasn't coming back, not anytime soon. Better for morale that way. But Nathan just—not yet.

He went back to his paperwork, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore his headache. His peace and quiet lasted all of two minutes.

"Chief Wournos," a familiar voice boomed out.

Nathan didn't bother looking up. "Not now, Duke."

"I'm doing fine, Nathan. Thanks for asking," Duke said, deadpan. When Nathan still didn't look up, he let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. I'll get to the point. It's going to be a nice day on Saturday, and I was thinking we could go out fishing on the boat."

Nathan's mouth pulled into a tight line. "Yeah? What do need help hiding from the coast guard this time?"

Duke let out another, longer sigh. "Okay, I'm going to ignore that and leave the offer on the table. You know where to find me." Nathan hoped that was the end of it, but of course Duke never let anything go so easily. "You're not the only one who misses her, Nathan."

Nathan clenched his jaw, even though he knew it was the truth. Maybe _because_ it was the truth. Misery didn't always love company, apparently.

* * *

If Nathan had ever wished that life could be a little less colorful while the Troubles were going on, he truly regretted it now. Weeks went by filled with fender-benders and neighborly disputes over whether garden gnomes violated town ordinances and the occasional DUI when some longshoremen had celebrated the weekend too hard. He'd never been so bored in his life.

Today he'd been called out to investigate possible poaching. It was a long ride out route 12, and the whole way there he was painfully conscious of the empty passenger seat. At the scene, he felt the absence at his side while he took statements and looked for evidence. He'd worked alone before Audrey, but that seemed like such a long time ago. Now being partner-less left him off kilter.

It was a perfect July day, the kind that only happened in Maine, the sky a deep, limitless blue. The sun fell thick and heavy on the back of his neck, and the wind moved in his hair whenever it gusted up. He bent down to investigate tracks in the soil, the dirt sifting through his fingers, dry and granular, grass teasing his bare wrists. He'd waited and wanted, and now he had all these little, ordinary wonders of sensation back again, but he just felt blank.

And his headache was worse than ever.

On the way back into town, he had every intention of heading straight to the station—there was a stack of paperwork with his name on it—but he took a sudden detour when he hit Main Street and ended up down by the water. The fishing boats were coming in, the docks humming with activity. Nathan slowed down and scanned the slips. There was the Cape Rouge, moored in its usual spot, its deck quiet, no sign of Duke anywhere. That thought snapped Nathan out of—whatever he was doing. He stomped on the gas and drove away.

He really had no business being there.

* * *

Desperation could make people do unlikely things. That was one of the many lessons in human nature Nathan had wracked up, both as a cop and as someone who'd lived through the Troubles. He knew desperation when he saw it, and now he could feel it too, an uncomfortable prickle beneath his own skin, the relentless pounding in his temples that just wouldn't stop. Nathan trudged through his days, investigating a rash of vandalism at the high school and trying to talk reason into feuding storeowners, with the constant, low-grade need to step outside himself and escape.

Desperation. That was how he ended up back at the docks, standing alongside the Cape Rouge.

Duke had been spending more time here and less at The Gull ever since—Nathan only knew this because it was his job to be observant—and it wasn't long before Duke appeared on deck hefting a crate of who knew what. He was too focused on his work to notice he had company, and that gave Nathan the chance to wonder: _What the hell am I doing here?_ There was still time to change his mind, and he was about to turn and go when Duke spotted him.

"Nathan. Not exactly who I was expecting." His eyebrows arched upward with curiosity. "You come to take me up on that fishing trip or to check for contraband?"

"Why? Do you have something to hide?" Nathan shot back, without any real heat to it. He couldn't help rubbing at the back of his neck. Everything hurt.

Duke's gaze turned sharp. "How long have you had that headache?"

Nathan shrugged. He wasn't going to say it. Didn't think he could bear saying her name out loud.

Duke filled in the blanks for himself. "That long, huh?" He nodded his head for Nathan to climb aboard. "Come on."

There was no reason to go, but Nathan really did need to feel outside his own life, even if it was only for a little while, and turning to Duke—well, that was about as unlike himself as he could get.

Duke led him below deck where the hearty scent of cooking hung in the air. Maybe beef stew? Apparently Duke had been whipping up dinner. It smelled good, and Nathan tried to remember the last time he'd eaten. There was a hazy memory of a half-stale pastry, but he couldn't recall if that had been today or yesterday.

"Sit," Duke said and poured Nathan a shot of—something. Not that it really mattered.

"I already tried this." Nathan downed the shot anyway.

Duke made a wry face. "I'm not under any illusions that I can fix you, Nathan. I'm just going to feed you before you fall over."

He dished up stew and cut sandwiches, and they ate without saying much. When Nathan startled at how hot the stew was—eating had been an adventure since he got his sense of touch back—Duke's eyebrows went up at the reaction, but he didn't offer any commentary. He kept pouring whisky even after the food was gone, and Nathan sank back against the sofa cushions, heavy limbed and warmed through by bourbon.

"So, how have you been enjoying being able to feel things again?" Duke tilted his head, interested, and when Nathan didn't offer an answer, he nodded. "Yeah, I kind of figured. It would be just like you to get the ability to experience pleasure and do nothing with it."

"You're not going to offer to buy me hookers again, are you?" Nathan asked dryly.

Duke smiled. "Nah. I have another idea." Nathan nearly dropped his glass when Duke leaned over and kissed him. "So, you going to take me up on it? Or are you going to pretend that hasn't been waiting to happen since we were in the eighth grade?"

What was the angle? Nathan had to wonder, because Duke always had one. He started to ask, but the truth was, it didn't really matter. Besides. _I'm not the only one who misses her_. That kept circling around in his head.

If Duke was surprised that Nathan kissed him back, he didn't show it. But then he wouldn't. This was _Duke_. He surged against Nathan, getting a hand in his hair and the other under his T-shirt. His fingers played over Nathan's skin, and the heat from his touch came as a shock. God, it had been so long. Nathan couldn't stop shivering.

"Come on." Duke urged Nathan to his feet and herded him toward the bedroom, kissing and pulling off their clothes. It was typical Duke, greedy for everything at once. Nathan found he didn't mind so much under the circumstances.

Since they were kids, they'd been pushing and pulling at each other, and this was no different, getting undressed and making each other hard, the ultimate game of one-upmanship. When they finally tipped onto the bed, it was in a tangled pile, kissing and grabbing at each other and vying for the upper hand, as if there were something to win.

It made no sense, honestly, that Nathan was suddenly so desperate for this. Ever since—he hadn't wanted to feel anything, because that was the consolation prize he got in place of—and he didn't want it. Didn't. Only now he did, wanted to drown out everything else with sensation so he didn't have to think anymore. And that made his stomach clench with guilt.

"Stop doing that to yourself," Duke murmured, mouth moving in a line along Nathan's neck. "Stop tying yourself in knots."

This made Nathan go tense all over, waiting for what would come next, Duke using her name, handing out some bullshit like, _she'd want you to be happy_ , but what came next was simply, "Nathan." If a word could be a lifeline, then this was it.

Maybe that was why Nathan had come here. Because Duke was the only who could understand.

He ran his hands up Duke's arm, letting go, letting himself really feel, the heat and texture of skin, soft tickle of hair and the shape of Duke's muscle, the flex of his strength. It didn't feel like he was betraying Audrey, even though he'd expected it to, even though the only reason he could have this was because she was gone. But then Duke had been right before: this, whatever it was between them, had been waiting to happen for a long time. Nathan wasn't moving on, wasn't leaving Audrey behind. He was circling back around to the beginning.

"Duke." He clutched at broad shoulders and opened himself up to all of it: the heated clench of their hips working against each other, the sweat-slick slide of their thighs, the telltale ache low in his belly.

"Come on, Nathan. Yeah." Duke scraped his teeth lightly along Nathan's throat.

It had been a long time, and that was—Nathan squeezed his eyes shut and shook helplessly all through his orgasm. Apparently this was a turn on for Duke, because he said Nathan's name one last time and came all over his stomach.

Nathan stared up at the ceiling afterward, a pleasant buzz all through his body, not thinking much of anything. It took a while for him to realize, "My headache's gone."

Duke turned his head on the pillow. "Maybe I did fix you." Nathan's skeptical face made him smile. "So," his tone turned conspicuously casual, "Is this the part where you freak out and storm off the boat?"

Nathan took a moment to consider that. "I don't think so."

"Okay then. Good." Duke shifted onto his side and flung his arm across Nathan's waist.

"Seriously?"

"Deal with it."

Nathan smiled, and he was starting to drift off when Duke murmured, quiet and serious, "This, us, it's not just because we both miss her, you get that, right?"

It was instinct—that was all—to bring his hand up and settle it over Duke's where it rested on his stomach.

* * *

Nathan woke a little bleary from bourbon, sticky everywhere and squinting at the bright flare of light streaming through the porthole directly into his eyes. He really didn't appreciate the sun right at the moment.

Duke propped himself up on his elbow and peered down at Nathan with a wary pinch between his eyebrows. "Okay, is _this_ the part where you freak out and storm off the boat?"

_Can this be the part where you stop asking me that?_

Duke upped the ante before Nathan could get it out. "Will pancakes sway your decision?"

"Yes. Yes, they will," Nathan answered quickly.

Duke nodded with satisfaction and pressed a kiss to Nathan's mouth before padding off to the kitchen.

They ate up on deck, lots of butter and thick dark syrup on the pancakes, just the way Nathan liked them, and cup after cup of strong black coffee. _I could do this every morning_ , he thought as he pushed his empty plate away. It startled him to realize what he was feeling: actual contentment.

Only one thing was missing, an empty chair at the table like it was waiting for her. Duke must have picked up on the thought, because he shifted closer, pressing his leg against Nathan's in commiseration.

"Do you think there's any way we could get her back?" Nathan wondered aloud. "Without waiting twenty-seven years."

Duke tilted his head, considering. "Just because it's never happened doesn't mean it's not possible."

Nathan nodded. "Vince and Dave know things."

"It's just a matter of getting them to talk."

"Between the two of us, we can be very persuasive." Nathan leveled a long, questioning look at him. _You in this with me?_

Duke's mouth curved into a smile. "I'll get my keys."

They clambered off the boat and headed down the dock. Nathan stopped Duke before he could slide behind the wheel of the truck. It just seemed important to say something before they started this. The two of them—whatever it might turn out to be—it wasn't just because they both missed her. Nathan knew that. He just didn't know how to tell Duke.

Duke waited, and when Nathan still couldn't get out the words, he asked, "Are you trying to say something like this?" He took Nathan's face in his hands and kissed him.

Nathan smiled softly. "Something like that, yeah."

Duke nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Now let's go get our girl."


End file.
